I was not close to my father. He was a respected Physician, a beautiful classical pianist, an excellent tennis player, and gregarious gentleman. He and my mother married in 1955, in London, England. Many years into their marriage, my father was diagnosed as Bipolar. My parents separated when I was 8. Five years later, after all of those years of court battles and law suits, it was final. We had to sell our beautiful Sea Cliff home, in San Francisco, and my mother and I moved to Southern California. my father remarried without telling me. He died two months before I met my husband, from renal failure, due to years of taking Lithium, so that he could continue to practice medicine. At his funeral, there was no mention that he had children. Only if the love that he and his second wife had. The quote that I posted, above, rings very true to my heart. I feel that I have forever looked to others, to bring happiness to me. I am now at a place, at 56, that I truly know, that I must try to make my own happiness.